Lakhoni Read Free Page B

worried he couldn’t do it. His head still hurt. So did
his side. The more minor pains had faded with the work, although sweat stung in
his cuts, and his ankle still twinged in pain with every few steps.
    How
could he be expected to drag everyone he had known his whole life into a pile,
then set them on fire? How could he touch—
    He
choked back a moan. Why couldn’t I die with them and let the animals and
forest do their work?
    “Why?”
he whispered to the cool breeze blowing through the village. It gave no answer.
    He
stood before the branches, his thoughts a haze of pain and burning grief. The
torrent within him surged. He swallowed tightly, clenching his lips tightly
closed.
    “No.”
    He
had no answer. He would never know why.He looked around the village,
not seeing the bodies this time, but seeing ghostly memories. Marna heating rocks
for ancient Yeval’s feet. Enormously fat Salno waddling through the village,
carrying his pouch of herbs he used to make healing teas.
    “I
can’t. I don’t know how,” Lakhoni whispered.
    But
if not him, who would pay the final respects for the people he had loved and
who had loved him?
    “I’ll
do it until I can’t anymore. The First Fathers would understand.”
    He
turned and, before he could think any more about it, he crouched, hooked his
arms under the nearest limp form and walked backward. Carefully laying the body
onto the branches, he tried to avert his eyes before he saw the person’s face.
He wasn’t fast enough. It was his cousin Jona. Lakhoni reached out quickly,
closed Jona’s eyes and turned to the next.
    If
I go fast enough, I won’t think about it.
    He
worked for hours, deliberately staying away from his family’s hut. He found
that if he could turn off his thoughts and just focus on the physical labor, it
was much easier. Coming upon the body of his dog, Ancum, jolted him with fresh
pain. He knew it was wrong, but he placed Ancum’s body on the pile as well. He
was my family also.
    The
work cleansed him of the fuzziness that had plagued him. The raiding party must
have gotten ahead of him and left someone behind to catch any people outside
the village. That hunter must have hit Lakhoni, thinking he had dealt Lakhoni a
death blow. Mother always said I had too hard of a head. He clamped down
hard on the pain rising in his throat, blinking tears away.
    Lakhoni
bent to the next fallen villager. Without thinking, he looked at the face.
    His
mother, Sana. Lakhoni’s breath disappeared and he sat heavily, his arms still
hooked under his mother. Her light brown eyes were empty.
    “Mother.”
    Air
slammed back into him. His lower jaw shook as he tried to control the shaking
that took hold of him. His hands, between his mother’s arms and torso,
trembled. The need to flee filled him. He tried to get to his feet, tried to
pull his hands away. He couldn’t remember how to stand.
    Dead.
His mother was dead.
    His
mother. Killed with a casual slice of a hunter’s dagger. Dead. The word flashed
through his mind again and again.
    Lakhoni
felt the tears on his face and knew he couldn’t hold it back. Too much, it was
too much. Murdered. His mother, with her kind nature always ready to comfort
any child in the village.
    His
body shuddered as the torrent of grief exploded like a stopped-up river through
a weakened dam. His chest heaved, his mind flashing through images of her.
Cooking in the family fire pit. Giving his father her special smile. Her
unusually straight teeth glinting in the firelight.
    Sobs
that shook his soul poured out of him. Lakhoni curled over the body of his
mother, soaking the dirt with his fear, grief, and anger. He rocked back and
forth, high-pitched moans escaping his clenched mouth, tears without end
streaming down his burning cheeks.
    He
stayed that way for some time, until his body was spent, his soul empty.
    No,
not empty. Nearly empty, but there was still something there. Something hot,
raw, and painful like a fresh wound.
    But
this